


No Reason To Be Alone

by lithiumlaughter



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Gen, Personal Growth, aligning canons, how it should have gone down, remy and rogue without the romance, rogue being awesome, someone described this as 'cup of tea' fic and i kind of like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithiumlaughter/pseuds/lithiumlaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marie's powers return, three things happen: she takes a (sort of) trip, she makes a friend (or something), and brings home a (not-really) stray. Yeah. She doesn't get it either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Reason To Be Alone

Everyone at school always figured that because of Marie's absorption abilities, she had an inherent and permanent fear of touching and being touched.

Everyone also seemed to  have forgotten that she'd only had her powers for a year and a bit before she'd gone and taken the cure. She hadn't been starved for touch at all before she'd catalyzed. Her family had actually been fairly touchy-feely...up until _it_ happened and their fear became too much for her to stick around for.  
  
None of this meant that Marie's powers hadn't been hard to deal with, or that she hadn't hated them. They were difficult and scary, and what they did to her took its physical and emotional toll. She feared what they were capable of and what they did to her.

The point, however, was that she had absolutely nothing against physical contact itself. Once she'd taken the cure and was able to touch, she did. She ruffled the younger kids' hair, kissed her boyfriend, wore tank-tops in the summer, the whole bit.  
  
Until everything changed again.  
  
She'd been holding Bobby's hand when a horribly familiar feeling came over her. Bobby's hand went stiff as his breathing became significantly shallower, and Marie gasped as his voice began to through her head.  
  
 _What's going on this isn't right Rogue what's going on?_  
  
She dropped his hand and ran.

***

The first person she told was Logan, who looked just as hurt as she felt. He held her tight, squeezing her through the thick hoodie she'd thrown on. All the loss at the Mansion had been slowly healing. Everything had been getting better. This shouldn't have happened.  
  
"I need to get out," she whispered. "Not for long, just away. For a bit. That's all."  
  
He nodded in understanding. He even helped her throw a duffel bag together. This, she noted, was an excuse for him to attempt being covert as he shoved a wad of twenty-dollar bills in between a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.

Logan even drove her to the bus terminal, and probably would have paid for her ticket too if she hadn't cut past him and towards the front of the line.

A few minutes later, standing just outside the charter bus' door, Logan put a gentle  hand on her shoulder.

"You need anything, kid -- anything -- you call."

She nodded soberly, not sure of what to say. What words were there? She chose to give him one last hug, burrowing her face in his shoulder.

"Coming aboard, miss?" asked the driver.

"Go on," Logan said, giving her a light shove towards the bus. "Come back when you're ready."

***

It was about ten minutes in to the bus ride to New York City proper that she started to sniff. Twelve until she started to tear up. Fifteen until she gave small, audible sobs.  
  
"Y'alright there?" came a voice from across the bus' aisle. Looking up, she scrubbed her hands against her eyes and cursed herself for the moment of weakness. The words had come from a man in a long dark coat. He was older and slightly careworn, with auburn hair just starting to go grey.  
  
"I'm fi-" she began, pulling on Logan's gruffness. It didn't seem to work; the stranger cut her off.  
  
"Don't even try that one, girl. You look anything but fine."  
  
"Why ask if you know the answer?" she fired back, a little bit proud that the gruffness was finally settling in.  
  
He looked at her, head canted to the side. "You how old? Eighteen?"  
  
She didn't respond.  
  
"Look," he said, stretching out in his seat, "I'm not trying to hook you or heel you or anythin'. I look at you and I see something's happened, you're not in a good way, and you're makin' to leave it behind. That's all."  
  
His accuracy, never mind the fact that he didn't even know her and she really shouldn't even have been talking to him in the first place, was eerie.  
  
"That obvious?" she finally whispered.  
  
"Takes a runner to know one," he said dryly. "And it don't suit you."  
  
"Because you're wearing it so well," she shot back, and the archness in the words was all her.  
  
He snorted lightly. "So you do got a mouth on you."  
  
Again, she gifted him with silence. What the hell was up with this guy?  
  
"Nice gloves," he said, jutting his chin towards her hands. "Little worn out though."  
  
She balled her hands quickly, digging her covered nails into her palms.  
  
He dug a cigarette packet out of his pocket and ripped the back off. Digging a pen out of his pocket as well, he scribbled something on it and proffered it to her.  
  
"Address of a decent store in the city. A friend of mine runs it. She can set you up with a nice pair. Tell her Remy sent you and she'll cut you a deal."  
  
She hesitated, and he shrugged. "Go or don't. No business of mine. Jus' take it."  
  
Marie of all people had a unique way of determining how trustworthy people were, loathe as she was to use it. She'd never get a better opportunity with this guy though.  
  
Taking off a glove, she reached over to take the address and made a point of brushing her bare fingers lightly against his hand as she did so. It was enough.  
  
There was a kid, some crime family, a rescue, and that kid and something about exile and _that kid_ and getting out of a mess he'd made, and _poor girl should be somewhere better than this hope she stays okay hope she trusts me enough to go to Anne's store 'cause Anne'll do right by her_.  
  
Marie took the address and stuffed it in her duffel bag before pulling on her glove once more. Remy (because that was apparently his name) blinked as though trying to wake himself up, and Marie studied him. She wouldn't trust this Remy guy entirely, but he wasn't lying. He wasn't out to hurt her. He honestly thought he was doing her a good turn.  
  
"Thanks," she said.  
  
He gave her a weak smile and a salute. "Welcome. Feelin' kinda woozy right now though. Gonna take me a nap."  
  
"S'all good," Marie said, trying her best to keep the Louisiana lilt she'd just acquired out of her voice.

***

When the bus finally arrived at its destination, Remy was up and gone before Marie could say a word. One moment he'd been asleep, the next he had disappeared.

She was not surprised. What little she now understood of him suggested this was par for the course.

Once Marie herself disembarked, she felt the weight of the address inside her bag. Should she follow the 'advice' she'd been given?

There was no real reason for her to. It was just a store; there were plenty of them, and it wasn't as if her gloves were that bad off. On the other hand, there was no real reason for her not to. It was a store that came recommended, albeit in an odd way, and the place wasn't too far off...at least, as far as she could tell based on her rather limited knowledge of New York streets.

 _So what now?_ Marie asked herself. It wasn't as if she'd come to New York with a plan outside of 'be away from Xavier's and everyone there for a while'. 

What the hell. Why not?  If it was slight wisps of Remy pushing her to do so, who knew, but she decided she would go to the store. First though, food.

***

Marie clutched the back of the cigarette pack tightly, looking from the address written on it to the address printed above the store door in front of her. She had the right place, it seemed.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and walked in to the sound of it hitting a bell. Marie took a cursory look around her as she jammed the note back in her bag.  
  
The place was a strange one. Though small, it was a strange mish-mash of all sorts of things. One corner featured outdated clothing. Another was vintage costume jewelry beneath glass. Yet another was devoted to random trinkets and the like: a hope chest, a couple knock off Tiffany lamps, mismatched china plates.  
  
A woman walked out of a back room. Tall, brunette, and her hair tied back in an awkward sort-of bun, she smiled lightly.  
  
"Is...is Anne in?" Marie asked.  
  
"You're talkin' to her. What can I do you for?"  
  
Another deep breath. "Remy said you ran a good place here."  
  
"I like to think so," Anne laughed. "And it's the damndest thing. You just missed him -- the guy blew through here about half an hour ago or thereabouts. Said a lost-looking girl might come through and name-drop him, and you look like you fit the bill."  
  
Anne must have caught Marie stiffening at the words, because she reacted quickly. "Hey. Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say somethin' wrong or anything." She went behind the counter and reached for something beneath it. It was a small bag, and she slid it across the counter.  
  
"Here," Anne said. "These're kinda on the house."  
  
Marie approached the counter, and opened the bag. A pair of black opera gloves. She looked at them, confused. Pulling them out, she realized something even more strange: they were exactly the right size.  
  
"How--"  
  
Anne's grin returned, a little lopsided. "Remy paid for them when he was here."  
  
"But how would he know what size to get me?"  
  
"Guy's crazy observant. Has been as long as I've known him, which's a while now."  
  
The back of another cigarette packet fluttered out of the bag and on to the counter. Marie picked it up and saw a scrawl that matched the printing on the one in her coat pocket.  
  
 _I'm guessing you don't have many friends around here. You can borrow mine._  
  
There was a phone number printed underneath it.  
  
"He said if you needed help, call that number. It's probably his, but I'm not sure. The man changes phone numbers pretty regularly."  
  
"I've already got some friends," Marie said, her tone entirely defensive. Anne shrugged.  
  
"I'm just the messenger here."  
  
"Is he always this brand of infuriating?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
Marie looked at the note in her hand, considering tossing it in the garbage can next to the counter.  
  
Remy's voice sounded in her head -- _girl should be somewhere better than this hope she stays okay hope she trusts me enough to go to Anne's store 'cause Anne'll do right by her..._  
  
She jammed the new message in her coat pocket with a half-sigh.  
  
Yanking off her threadbare gloves, she tugged on the new ones and flexed her fingers.  
  
"Thanks," she said.  
  
Anne waved her off. "Thank Remy if you see him. He's the one who seems to be lookin' out for you."  
  
Marie hummed, flexing her fingers once more. _You can borrow mine_ , he'd written. In that case, she'd take him up on the offer.  
  
"Anne," she asked, "you know of any cheap, clean hostels around here?"

***

The Black Book, as Anne promised, was indeed cheap and clean. She prepaid for the night, and was given couple keys and a quick tour.

"We always ask," said the guy who was leading her through the halls to a room. "How'd you find us?"

"Recommended by a friend."

"Always love hearing that," he replied, opening one door in particular and gesturing grandly towards the rows of bunk beds along the walls. "Go on and settle in. We serve a hot breakfast from six to ten if you like."

Marie nodded her understanding, and the guy disappeared.

It wasn't especially late, but Marie found herself exhausted nonetheless.

Locking her bag and coat in the provided locker beneath her bunk, she climbed in to the bunk itself and wrapped herself up in the provided blanket. She remained fully dressed for bed, just as she had when she was making her way up north from Meridian: a habit that was disconcertingly easy to fall back in to. There were curtains around each of the individual beds, so she drew hers closed and drifted off to sleep.

***

Marie woke up at what the clock in the room said to be eight.

Crawling out of bed, she ran a hand through her hair and smoothed out her clothes.

The breakfast didn't look like anything spectacular, but certainly didn't appear awful. She served herself some porridge and grabbed some fruit, as they seemed the most appetizing items in the spread.

Taking a seat at the far corner of the makeshift dining room, she tucked in. This peaceful moment was ruined by the front desk guy approaching her.

"You've gotta be Stripes, right?" he asked. Marie touched at her hair. Of course.

"Guess so," she replied. "What's it matter to you?"

"Some dude swung by looking for you this morning. Said to give him a ring, that you know the number."

Marie clenched her fists, and then reached to pull on the gloves she'd removed before she'd started eating. "Really."

"Yeah," the guy said, and  he looked concerned. "Everything cool?"

"It's fine. Thanks."

The guy gave a unconvinced nod, but left. Marie had lost any hunger she'd had, and stormed back to her room. Grabbing her bag and coat, she left the hostel.  There were clearly places she needed to go.

First stop was the closest bodega.

"Pack of Marlboro Lights, please," she asked the cashier. Crossing her fingers that the he wouldn't ask her age -- she wasn't quite nineteen yet  -- she did her best to look as old as possible. This was not a difficult task. She had enough life and lives in her to go around. That worry always remained though, but in this case proved unnecessary. The cashier gave her the smokes, took her money, and gave Marie her change coupled with a curt 'have a good one'.

Next stop? Anne's store.

***

Anne wasn't there when Marie arrived. At least, she wasn't behind the counter. It was a petite blonde instead, probably a year or so older than Marie.

"Can I give you a hand?" the girl asked.

"Maybe," Marie replied. "Is Anne around?"

"Sorry to disappoint; it's her day off."

"Ah."

Marie crossed her arms and bit down on her tongue in thought.  "You don't happen to know Remy, do you?" she tried.

The girl's answer was laced with suspicion. "Yeah. The Lebeau guy. Why?"

"He's kind of a friend. It's been a while since we last saw each other. We've been trying to get in touch, and keep just missing one another." Marie was rather proud of how smoothly the words came. "Has he been by at all today?"

"Nope," the girl said, shaking her head, suspicion gone. Marie found herself viciously relieved. She wouldn't place a bet on it, but the knowledge that she just might have been a step ahead of Remy was a comforting thing.

"Do you know where he might stay?"

The girl's mouth twisted in consideration. "There's an apartment in the Bronx he crashes in sometimes."

Even better.

"Mind giving me the address?"

"Sure," said the girl. Picking a pen up off the counter, she scratched something out on the back of an abandoned receipt and handed it over. Marie nodded her appreciation, and proceeded to the next step of her plan. Opening her duffel, she pulled out the Marlboro Lights.

She pointed to the blonde's hand, which was still clutching the pen. "Can I borrow that?"

The girl looked at her curiously, but handed it over. The curious grew more so as Marie ripped the box apart.

"Do you smoke?" Marie asked.

"No."

With that, Marie tossed the cigarettes in the waste basket next to the counter. Her attention was focused on the remains of their package. She scribbled a quick note.

Perfect.

***

Marie couldn't believe her good luck, if it could even be called luck at all.

The buzzer system at the front door -- an ancient thing -- actually had the initials "R.L." next to a number indicating that the apartment was on the third floor. Surprising. Almost sloppy. Well, maybe not. R.L could have been anybody, really,  and she only knew she was in the right place thanks to the shop girl's help. Perhaps the place was a little more anonymous than she'd imagined. She was pleased regardless.

Not only that, but once she'd climbed up the fire escape to the third floor, the window there wasn't even locked. She slipped in easily, and found herself in exactly the right apartment.

More residue of Remy, perhaps. While she might not have picked up specifics when she absorbed him, such as the existence of this apartment, as soon as she'd seen the initials she'd just _known_ where to go.

Walking through the small, almost barren, place Marie found her way to the kitchen. She pulled her own cigarette package out of her coat pocket, and looked at the message she'd written there:

_Stalking isn't particularly attractive. What was it you said about not heeling me?_

Smiling, Marie left it on the table. She climbed out the window again and headed back for the Parkchester subway station.

***

Marie went back to the Black Book, and paid up for another night. She was most certainly not ready to go back to Xavier's. Logan had given her enough cash to take care of herself for a week and still have enough to buy a bus ticket back to Westchester.

She was also most certainly not ready to deal with Remy again. If her luck so far continued to hold out, she'd made her point and he'd back off entirely. She was frankly counting on this.

Duffel still slung over her shoulder, she left the hostel and started down the street with the intention of doing some mindless wandering.

After a few minutes, she found herself passing a collection of stores, and doing some lazy window shopping. Even if she had no intention of buying anything at all, she still enjoyed looking at the displays. She went rigid when she saw a certain reflection behind her in one of the windows.

"Not bad," Remy said, holding up the note for her to see. "Not bad at all."

Turning around, Marie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Clearly, you missed the point."

He gave a quick, wheezy laugh. "Figured I owed you an answer or two. Got a couple questions myself."

"I'm sure you do."

"You look like a gal in need of a coffee," he said, pointing across the street at a cafe. "Wanna chat over some ridiculously expensive lattes?"

Her crossed arms tightened. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't kick you in the shins and make a run for it."

If he were to try anything, of course she wouldn't kick him in the shins. She'd rip off a glove and suck him dry. No point in revealing or playing that card unless she absolutely had to though.

"'Cause I think we might have a couple things in common."

"Such as?"

His eyes  went a strange shade of red, and holding the note close to his chest so as to prevent anyone besides her from seeing it, somehow lit the paper in a magenta blaze that left it nothing but ash in his hand.

A mutant. Marie cursed herself internally. How on earth had she missed that pertinent tidbit when she'd absorbed him? She supposed she could blame it on how brief the contact was, but still. She missed him being a _mutant._

His smile was exasperatingly charming. "Coffee then?"

***

"So how'd you figure me out?" she asked, voice low and her pointedly ungloved hands wrapped around a mug as the two of them sat inside the cafe.

"Well, the gloves, for one. For two, the whole touching me on the bus thing. I don't normally feel woozy like that. Only put it together once I'd woken up." He took a sip of his coffee. "You zap energy, don't you?"

She didn't elaborate or clarify. Let him think what he wanted. "And you light things on fire."

"Sort of. I charge 'em, they go boom. Or light up, like your note. Depends on the amount of energy I put in." He licked his lips, and turned his own mug around in his hand. "Look. I didn't mean to creep you out. Honest. I just haven't seen many people like us around is all. At least, not lately." He turned the mug around one more time. "That's why I started to follow you."

"Even after you said you wouldn't."

"I'm tryin' to apologize."

"I'm waiting."

Remy traced a lazy circle on the table with his index finger. "I'm sorry, 'kay? Should've minded my own business. You just looked scared, and when I picked up that you were a mutant, I figured I either wanted to give you a hand or just talk with you...and went about it all wrong-like. I'm sorry."

"You going to start being truthful  with me?"

"Yes."

Just like it had been when she'd met him on the bus, there was one method she knew of to be sure of his intent. "Gimmie your hand then."

Puzzled, he reached out.

"This may feel weird," she said, and she brushed her fingers against his palm. It was enough.

_This is weird I wonder what she's doing god I hope she believes me even though I've been an asshole I had decent intentions I swear even though I was stupid about them_

Both of them shook off their shock. Remy looked a little tired, a little haggard, but not especially worse for wear.

"Alright then, Remy," Marie said. "Apology accepted."

He arched an eyebrow at the use of his name. "So. That's one thing you got up on me. You have a name yourself?"

"I've got a couple."

"Gonna share one?"

Marie was quiet for a moment as she turned his question over in her mind. "I go by Rogue a lot."

"Rogue," he repeated. She waited for the inevitable variation of 'no really what's your name', but to her amazement, it didn't come. Remy just dipped his head briefly. "Rogue. Alright then."

***

As Marie fell into bed at the Black Book that night, she found it difficult to fall asleep. She was being assailed by questions that kept repeating themselves.

Why were her powers not bothering her? She'd been hurting badly because of them when she left Xavier's. Hell, she'd been outright crying on the bus. What changed?

Was it some of Remy's swagger rubbing off on her? Some sort of confidence boost that she'd come by honestly from being away and apart, or from her having made the deliberate choice to use her powers  as opposed to having her hand forced into using them? Her mind being distracted by the challenge of dealing with Remy?

No answer was making itself known. Marie exhaled heavily, turned over one more time, and found that the slight adjustment in her posture was just the right one. Her brain started to go fuzzy, her body relaxed, and she began to drift off to sleep.

Her last conscious thought was not even her own. It was one of those wisps of Remy floating around in her brain:

_The girl probably thinks I'm more than a little creepy she's like as not hazardous to my health in more ways than one probably not a good idea but what the hell why not at least talk with her not like there's many of our kind around and she's a sharp one I kinda like that..._

***

The two of them met at the same coffee shop the next afternoon as per an agreement they'd made after their last rendezvous.

"So you're telling me that there's a school full of people like us, just over in Westchester."

"Yeah."

"And it's safe."

"Yeah."

"And you're invitin' me there."

"Takes a runner to know one," she mimicked, pulling out his accent alongside the words he'd used at their first meeting. "And it don't suit you."  
"Funny," he said sarcastically, but amusement still managed to slink through the word.

Marie spread her hands in a gesture of surrender. Remy was lonely, in his weird way; from what she could half-remember from the memory the night before, he hadn't seen another mutant in a long time. He'd been on the move for a while, it seemed, and it didn't take her powers to tell it was taking a toll on him. The constant changing of phone numbers that Anne had mentioned, the spartan apartment, travelling by bus -- by his own admission, he was on the run.

"It's your choice," she shrugged. "I figured you might at least like the option."

He didn't answer, just looked into his coffee as though he were divining answers. Marie spoke gently.

"I've got some friends you can borrow too."

The words clearly hit the mark, as he looked up at the ceiling resignedly. "I should probably get out of here anyhow. New York doesn't agree with me on a long term basis."

"Someone tailing you?" she grinned dryly.

"Something like that." The word _guild_ flashed through her mind as he threw back the last of his coffee.

"They're not going to be able to find you there. Even if they somehow do, there's plenty of us. We look out for our own."

"Oh, so now I'm one of your own?" he said, the phrase punctuated by a smoker's laugh.

"I trust you. Kind of." The words initially shocked her as they exited her mouth. Their truth dawned on her shortly thereafter.

He looked at her oddly. "Really."

_..I've been an asshole I had decent intentions I swear even though I was stupid about them..._

And Marie thought she had a guilt complex sometimes. "I don't think you're as bad a guy as you think you are."

"And why would you go and say something like that?"

Here went nothing. "I don't just zap energy. I pick up memories and thoughts too."

Remy tensed quickly and looked as though his fight or flight instincts were kicking in on overdrive and then some. Marie jumped in just as fast to elaborate. "I barely touched you, so I only picked up a little. No secrets or anything, promise. Just a few thoughts. Enough to make a judgement call."

A shadow didn't so much cross his face as settle. "You sure about that call?"

"You made one about me," she countered. "And that seems to be working out alright enough. I'm in an even better position than you to form an opinion. Why would mine be so awful?"

 He didn't answer.

"Look. You wanna come, stay a while, see what it's like, then why not? It's not like they're gonna force you to stay. It's at least a place for you to lay low for a bit."

Marie left out the part where she hoped he would stay for more than a bit. Better to keep quiet, if only because she was having a hard time accepting it herself.

He looked at her carefully (Marie forced herself to maintain composure; it was a strange expression on him), then blew out a breath. "Sure. What the hell."

"Okay," she said, putting down her own emptied mug. "How soon do you want to get going?"

***

She called Logan from the bus depot the next morning.

"I'm coming back," she told him. "Mind picking me up? I'm on the 3:45 to Westchester."

"I'll be there, kid. Doing okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. Hope so, anyways."

"Good."

"I'm bringing along a --" She searched for the word. "A friend I made. One of us. Is that okay?"

There was a beat before Logan spoke again. "Not like we don't have enough rooms to go 'round. I'll see you both when you get in."

The conversation finished, and Marie turned to face Remy. He had an overnight bag in hand-- _anything I own I can either carry in this, or afford to lose,_ he'd explained -- and a long duster on.

"And?"

"And," she answered, "we've got a ride."

***

The bus ride, which was a little over an hour,  was uneventful. It was too enclosed, not crowded enough, for a conversation about a school for mutants. Marie looked out the window at the passing scenery. Remy occupied himself with a crappy paperback novel another passenger had left behind. They only really interacted as the bus pulled in to the depot.

"Ready?" Remy asked.

"Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?"

"Suppose so," he conceded, tossing the book across the aisle to an empty seat, and grabbing his bag.

They disembarked and went inside.

Marie beamed when she saw Logan, and threw herself into his arms for a hug that was most definitely reciprocated.

"Good to have you back," he said, and before Marie could say anything, Logan's grip had slackened and released as he noted her travel companion.

"You," Logan said, taken aback.

"You," Remy repeated, just as surprised, if not more.

Marie frowned, clutching a little tighter at the strap of her duffel. "You two know each other?"

"In a manner of speakin'."

A quick image of a power plant or a nuclear reactor or something flashed through her mind -- almost like two photographs superimposed over one another. From what Marie could tell, it was a combination of Logan and Remy's memory of the same place.

"This is your friend?" Logan asked, and if he had been a cat, his hackles would have been up.

"He's decent," Marie said, raising a hand and wiggling her fingers. Logan huffed, but nodded. He couldn't argue with that.

"We're gonna have a talk when we get back," he threatened as he started to lead the way to his truck, though the words themselves were mild.

He didn't specify with which of them, but Marie got the sense that it was going to be both.

Remy sighed. "Real welcome wagon."

"Hush up," Marie said. "He'll come around."

"Not so sure. Gonna have to tell you the story of how we met."

***

When they arrived at the Mansion, Remy was whisked away by Jubilee to get set up in one of the rooms in the boy's dormitory wing. Logan, on the other hand, walked with Marie to her room.

"So you met this guy how?"

"On the bus. He was headed for New York too. We talked. We ran in to one another again in the city."

"I can smell a lie by omission, you know that, right?"

Marie rolled her eyes.

Logan opened the door to her room and followed her in. "You're sure about him?" he asked, taking a seat on her bed.

She wiggled her fingers again. "Plus, you know him too."

"I remember his face. That's it."

"Then talk to him. He remembers. And he's not a bad guy, Logan. He's got some baggage, sure, but  who here doesn't?"

One more thing he had to admit to. Straightening up, he locked eyes with Marie.

"He's here on a probation type thing."

"Figured as much."

"Ororo and I are going to want to talk to him."

"I'd guessed that too."

Logan's expression became questioning. "What happened to you in New York? You seem...okay."

"That was sort of the point of going. To get okay."

"And I'm guessing  this Remy was a part of that."

Marie shrugged awkwardly. "Could be."

The clipped phrase led to Logan appearing unimpressed. "I can smell other things too, you know."

Marie's hands became fists and found their way to her hips.

Standing up, Logan made for the door. "I'm gonna go talk with him."

"If you do the 'what are your intentions with my daughter' thing --"

He blinked. "And why would I do that?"

Marie clenched her teeth. Hell. Even she didn't know where that came from.

_... and she's a sharp one I kinda like that..._

The smallest of mercies, she reflected with some comfort, was that she'd avoided clamping her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

Logan grimaced, but it became as much of a smile as she imagined he was capable of, situation given. "I won't."

"Good."

"Yet."

Marie threw a pillow at him.

-Fin-


End file.
